


Lovebug

by iloveitblue



Series: Prompts [261]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Patient!Clint, doctor!Phil, hahahaha, more like impatient!Clint, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Phil is the doctor every Saturday and Clint just so happens to be a patient every Saturday</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovebug

**Author's Note:**

> The curtain slid open and Clint groaned his best ‘oh my god, it hurts so much. Just put me out of my misery’ groan. Once the doctor slipped in and pushed the curtains back, Clint threw him a shit-eating grin.

“Hello, Clint.” The Doctor greeted with a quirk of his lips, which Clint had found out is an equivalent of a giggle.

“Hello, Doctor Phil.”

Phil rolled his eyes at his patient and put his stethoscope on. “That stopped being funny the first 3 times. After I graduated.” He placed the other end on top of Clint’s chest and listened.

“Here I thought I was special.” Clint pouted. Phil continued to do a bunch more standard issue tests that Clint has to surrender to every time he’s there.

“Yes, well, you are. But that joke, not so much.” 

“Aww, I’m special! I knew you liked me best.” Clint grinned.

“Don’t push it.” Phil said with a raised eyebrow before he stepped away from the man. “You seem to be fine. No bumps, no bruises, no blood where it isn’t supposed to be. What’s wrong this time?”

“You say that like I’m here  _everyday.”_ Clint complained.

“Well, you are here every time I’m on call except for when it’s busy here. And that just happens to be every Saturday. so, I’m going to ask again. What’s wrong this time?” 

That’s actually true for the most part. Clint was at that clinic every Saturday because Phil was there. Well, mostly because Phil was there. The first few times, he was there because of a series of unfortunate events. The other times were just a series of  _planned_  unfortunate events. 

The nurses at the front knew better now and just let Clint in without asking him what was wrong regardless if he had a serious injury or not. It was just easier than having Clint annoy them until he got to see Phil.

“’Msick.” Clint muttered, hanging his head in shame.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” Phil sounded concerned now, and despite not noticing anything wrong with the standard tests, Clint’s cheeks were starting to look brighter. His ears too. Maybe he was starting to get a fever. 

Clint nodded in response. “Here.” He pointed to his chest. “And my stomach hurts.”

Phil put his stethoscope on again and placed the end on Clint’s chest to listen for something that didn’t belong there. There wasn’t anything wrong really, aside from a slight elevation in the man’s heart rate.

“Did you eat anything you’re not supposed to ingest? Catch somebody’s cold? Did something bite you?” Phil asked, worried now. 

Clint was starting to break into cold sweat, his pupils were dilated, and his heart rate was elevated. “A bug.” Clint answered.

“A bug? A bug bit you?” Phil asked and Clint nodded. “Where? and when? Is it poisonous?”

Clint bit his lower lip, glanced up at Phil before he answered. “Right here. About three weeks ago. I don’t think it’s poisonous but ever since it bit me it makes me want to do these crazy things. Things I didn’t even think I would ever do on purpose.”

Phil was a tad bit confused. He knows next to nothing about bugs other than the standards they teach you in school but he’s pretty sure bug bites aren’t supposed to do that unless it’s the very same bug that bit Spiderman. “What kind of bug is it?”

“A lovebug.” Clint muttered.

“A what?”

“Lovebug. and I’m also… Lovesick.” Clint looked at Phil from under his lashes.

It hit Phil like a ton of bricks - the ’symptoms’ all made sense now, too - that all the doctor could say was a soft “Oh.”

Clint closed his eyes and groaned, before swinging himself backward so he was lying on the bed. “I can’t believe I said that! I’m so lame. Please forget I said that!”

Phil smiled a bit before he took out the pad he used to write a prescriptions note and scribbled on it. “That happens to be a very serious problem then, Mr. Barton.”

Clint got up, but still didn’t look at Phil. “I know, I’m sorry. I just-”

“One that we have to find a cure for immediately. Luckily for you, I know how.” He tore off the page and handed it to Clint. “We start the treatment Monday morning. Don’t be late.” Phil exited the small curtained partition with what might be the stupidest smile plastered across his face.

Clint read the note once, twice, but the words still stared up at him.

**Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?**

**If yes, Cuppa Joe’s. Monday. 9am.**

**Author's Note:**

> [Here on tumblr](http://promptmephlint.tumblr.com/post/123549447391/so-theres-three-seven-storms-lined-up-to-hit-the)
> 
> Unfortunately, the author has died of cute writing this story. This is an automated message. Beep boop.


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